by Richard Dusk
"Abnormal light reflection?"
"Yeah, if it's possible to call it that way. It happened yesterday, just a few hours before I met you. I was about to leave a bistro where I hid from the sandstorm when I suddenly didn't see anything right. The front was back, left was right. I didn't see what I was looking at that second," he sighed. "It's one of the many questions that only one living person can confirm to me."
"So you didn't lie. That's the reason why you're going there. The human race is on the verge of extinction, and you are after answers? Are you kidding me?" she gaped, not believing his words.
"Well, there isn't much to do in this world, is it?"
"Are you wandering hundreds of miles just for answers?"
"Yes, answers, and shelter. What were you after?"
"Well, I was after… A place where to hide and survive with others. I did hope that this all is just temporary, and everything will get back to normal. But after months of roaming around, I've lost faith. Same day repeated every day. Except that people and earth went crazy. Day after day, we strived for food and shelter because we couldn't stay anywhere for too long."
"Yet, you're the lucky one among the last few tens of thousands who survived till today."
"What's the gain? I hate this world. I hate this life. I've seen others. Most of them had the guts to hang themselves or jump off the roofs. Just five seconds and it was over. I stood on the edge, but I couldn't do it. Just one, meaningless step, and I would be out of here. It's another weakness of mine."
"You are fighting, just like everyone else. You just let the world oppress your will to live, but you're strong," said Garrett with a strange feeling of speaking to somebody like her. A stranger, he knew nothing about but found it easy to talk.
"You don't know me. The fears and nightmares I have barely let me sleep. If I were as strong as you say, then you wouldn't have to save me twice already," she kicked nearby lying stone into the forest, still angry at herself for Zack, and imagined that the rock was him and she just broke his ribs the same as Garrett.
"Do you dream of your close ones dying in your arms?" he watched her shook her head. "I decided to help you. You didn't ask for anything. You're right, I don't know you, but you've got more than most of the people out there now. You're alive and still walking on your own. If you were supposed to be dead now, you would be. But it is not your destiny."
"Do you call this a life when we live in a world where people would kill you for a can? Sooner or later, I would starve out. But the accidents happen, and you killed that guy."
"The last bullet I had killed him."
"Whatever."
A simple talk with somebody was a thing Garrett missed greatly and didn't realize it till now. Six months of lonesome struggling through the desolate world suppressed this need inside him to the extent that the way of his speech now sounded odd to him. He didn't care about the topic at all. No matter what she says, he wanted to hear her talking.
"You've got a role in all of this. Trust me. It's not an accident that you survived until today."
"For real? Are you into spiritual stuff? Do you hear and follow whispers or what? I decide at every moment what I want to do. There is no role for me."
"So, what is there?"
"You wanna hear what I think? I'm climbing a tree. I began at a trunk, and the older I got, I reached the limbs. I had a chance to choose the school and some other stuff, but the world around tied my hands whenever it could. You've chosen the limb you liked, the same as I did. After that, it's hard to swap it with another one, mainly when someone forces you to take the way he wants. I hope you were satisfied with all you had in your life. Because you're not gonna get it back. "
"What about other branches and twigs?"
"Just different doors you didn't open, and they will remain shut forever. You could be anybody, but you ended up like one leaf in billions of others. In the end, somebody comes to break your branch and lets you fall to the ground to start all over."
"Quite a nice idea."
"Out of all possible answers you say, 'Quite a nice idea?'" she said a bit offended. "What did you think? That someone plays with our lives and trips us up when we're expecting it the least?"
"No, I believe that fate is determined."
"Scientists believed in God?"
"Many did. It was never proven. But I see it a bit different. Let me ask you, why are you here?"
"Because you lead me this way."
"Yeah, but why am I leading you this way?"
"Because you've got some plan."
"No, because we met a few hours ago. Why did we meet?"
"Because our paths somehow crossed?" she rolled her eyes.
"Why?"
"I don't know, you were probably supposed to meet someone here."
"Why?"
"How many more whys do you have?" she sighed, tired of being inquired.
"As many as is needed. Every second is predetermined by the second before, so your future is set. Why did this apocalypse come? Why do people die in accidents? Why do they happen? How? You stand there and watch, not understanding the circumstances. Now go back in time a few minutes, and you will find out all that preceded the moment. Human nature makes us see the mistakes we did, but only after they happen. Till then, they are mostly invisible to us," he paused because he got back to painful memories that happened in the past. "This way, you can go far, far back in time, and you will reach the times that influenced life even before humankind existed. Tens of thousands of years ago. Or you can find a reason which caused all of this. That would help a lot."
"Yes, if you include other billion factors," she objected, and Garrett nodded in agreement.
"If we could measure and include them all, we would be able to read the future or people."
"How do you want to read people? What can you read in me?"
"Just that I believe you actually can't choose who you will be because events in the past somehow predetermine it."
"That's an amazing idea. You're caging me in no control over my life. Thanks."
"Maybe, but life is always the way it was meant to be, and you're who you're. If you are angry at your life and you'll set your mind to change it, then it was predetermined that you will do it."
"So whether I'm choosing my own path, my path is already chosen? Hmm, that's terrific regarding the world around us."
"It's just a point of view, but yes."
Somehow he forgot the common need he had with everyone he met before. Questions about their heading, places they came from, and many more to understand how dangerous they are. It felt weird to speak about something as useless as destiny, but somehow, it naturally came to the surface. After all, he was glad that he could finally have if only a short chat with someone about anything else than the world around. For a short while, life seemed to be less violent.
"Don't you lose all the effort to achieve something, when you just wait until everything happens?"
"You don't grasp what I mean. Other things than waiting motivate me. You don't know what will come. You create your destiny, but it's already there. It's like revealing the map above which a mist lingers. But we'll get back to this some other time. There's the church, so be prepared for everything."
Chapter 06 A Nickel In My Head
"It's beautiful," Jillian whispered, looking at the arched door.
Cracked wooden door, adorned with handmade forged ironwork, hanged on three black robust metal hinges. Four undulating grape cordons ran down and split into spiraling canes covered with spurs, delicate tendrils, and hanging green leaves with grape clusters. The stems of ivy entwined the cordons. Fading roses at the bottom of stems lost their petals, while middle flourished with ones in the full bloom and top with little buds coming into blossom. Two falcons with spread wings in the heart of the door faced each other. Their pointy beaks opened wide and stretched deadly talons were ready to be sunk into the enemy's body. They fought over a tall, thin vase with a sign of the sun. Overflowing wat
er turned into little streams and created peeling off golden writing beneath, Mors Tua Vita Mea.
"Such beauty," she whispered again, moving her fingers from the edge of leaves to the folded wing-shaped handle made of brass.
As she pushed it down, it squeaked and jammed. Regardless of the effort she made, she couldn't move it up or down. Giving up, she sighed and turned to Garrett to help her.
"Can you open it? It's stuck."
"Leave it," he emphatically whispered, looking up at the tower. "Somebody could be inside."
Walking together around the building, Jillian recalled the smell of roses. The door was the only beautiful part of the small church. Seventy feet high square bell tower, with beaten arch windows on all four sides just below the roof, towered over square hall with chancel. Outside walls painted grey, if they were ever painted at all, had cracks running up to the top where pointy roof full of holes slightly tilted to the left. Roughcast at the edges came off and piled on the ground, but completely missed on the backside, showing iron rods inside the concrete. Garrett overstepped a ten feet high wooden cross that tore off the wall and walked to the tiny, smashed window behind several metal bars. He stood on tiptoes to see inside but didn't have the height for that.
"Come here. I can't see anything," he put down his bag. "Climb up and tell me what you see. Strangers, stuff, anything," he leaned back against the wall, joining his hands. "Go," he bid Jillian, and she climbed up. "Tell me what you see."
"Nothing," she shaded her eyes. "It's dark in there but looks empty. Just stairs leading upwards, that's all," she jumped down.
"Let's peek inside. Then we'll get wood to warm ourselves and stuff some food in you," he put on the bag and dusted off hands while they walked to the door.
"It's stuck," Jillian grabbed the handle again, but it didn't move an inch. "We'll have to break it or something."
Garrett clutched the handle and pushed down with his weight, but rusty iron withstood all his efforts.
"What do we do?" he kneeled down and took a close look at the lock - a massive one with key scratches.
"Can you open it?" she watched Garrett searching inside his pocket.
"We'll see. I'll try to release the latch. Maybe just handle is stuck," he pulled out Zack's dagger and slid it between door and splintering frame. Wrenching the lock, he broke off the blade and handle left in his hand.
"Damn," he threw the rest of the dagger away. "Any ideas? 'Cause I'm not gonna break my knife," he pushed against the door with his shoulder.
"Try to shoot it. It works in the movies," she encouraged him.
"Well, we're not in a movie. Despite, I've got no bullets, and to top it all, Zack's gun is empty as well. The only extra bullet I had, I used to save you. We've got to do this with a bit of violence. Move aside."
He stood a few feet away from the door and kicked it with destructive force right under the handle. The lock ripped out the wood of the doorframe, and the door swung open, revealing darkness inside with the echoing sound of a splintering wooden door. Garrett unbuckled the pole from the bag and walked into the dark.
"That did the trick," Jillian walked right behind him but stopped at the door.
"Come inside. You won't see anything with light behind you," said Garrett, not hearing their footsteps. "There is nothing here, not even a floor. It had to be ripped away from the foundations," Garrett walked by the wall with fingers lightly touching it.
"Stairs are here," she noted and began walking up the steep, square spiral staircase.
"Don't go up there. Wood may come loose."
"Whatever. You said my destiny is set. If I fall, then it's meant to happen."
"At least check the road when you'll be there. We'll head north," he watched her rising up.
Rotten construction squeaked beneath her feet, but she wanted to see everything from the top.
"I see the entire valley, and the storm is still over the city," she shouted down to Garrett with her head poked out of a window. "And I see a dried river, forest, and mountains behind. And a roof right under mountains, I think. Yes, there's some building in the north. It reflects the sunlight."
"All right, come down already," shouted Garrett through the sound of squeaking wood.
He heard Jillian groaning something about Garrett not being her father, but she came down.
"I thought there would be a bell in the tower, but there's none. Otherwise, nothing has changed, and the road you want to head next looks clear."
"Did you see any other storm or something like that? Any strangers, smoke, anything weird?"
"No. Just heavy clouds coming from the northwest."
"Okay, let's get some wood and start the fire. I've eaten nothing since yesterday's lunch," said Garrett, and they walked out of the door, heading to fallen trees.
A dry, cold wind coming from the leafless forest blew dust into their eyes.
"Put this on," Garrett handed her Zack's goggles. "It's dustproof."
"What about you?" she strapped them on.
"I'm used to it. I'll just stand back to the wind and put my hood on," he rubbed his red, sorrow eyes.
Branches were easy to break off from uprooted trees, and Garrett thought about the night storm and Zack's words. What if there are communities somewhere? It wasn't the first time Garrett thought about it, but every time he received an echo about some camp, it turned out to be burnt down, raided, or buried under debris before he could reach it. In the end, it kept him alive coming there late and forced him to continue the journey. He knew Zack made it all up, but what if they exist? If the search for safe shelter he pursues for the entire year fails, then they'll have no place where to go, except the roads where they will roam until something kills them. He had a lot of ideas about how to reach the end of the journey alive, but no alternative plans where to go if they fail. Maybe she was right. There's no purpose. He looked at her by the corner of the eye. She picked up the wood, thinking about something as well.
"That's enough for today. Take that one," he pointed to smaller of two woodpiles in front of her.
"I always wanted to learn some survival skills. Make a fire, shelters, traps, find food and water, you know?" Jillian picked up the wood. "And now I'm living it. That's sick, isn't it?"
Garrett opened his mouth to answer her, but a distant noise caught his attention. He looked back at the remote city.
"What is it? What do you see?" she dropped the wood and walked to Garrett. She grabbed him by a shoulder and craned her neck to see.
Garrett raised his arm holding twig and pointed to the city. She didn't understand what he meant but saw reflections in the distance. Buildings disappeared, and others appeared instead of them. Downtown high-rises thinned out, and houses from the suburb got swallowed by the skyscrapers transferred to their places. They came in waves and immediately collapsed under their own weight pressing the unstable bedrock. The tremendous noise of buildings coming down ruled the land, and they felt the vibrating ground beneath their feet.
"Is the city rebuilding itself?" she said the same words that ran through Garrett's mind.
"I wouldn't call it rebuilding. It has no sense and structure. Look at the flashes - field anomalies. It's another temporary local divergence. But I need to get inside. My eyes hurt, and I don't want to see anything more of this today," Garrett turned to walk into the church but didn't move an inch. "And what is this?" he stood bewildered.
Jillian turned around and followed him to the woodpile she held a minute ago. Wood ran through the square box freezer on both sides. Garrett grabbed a branch and tried to pull it out, but it moved together with the box. He pulled with all force until it broke off, and Garrett staggered and fell on his back.
"What is that?" she examined the box from a distance.
"It- It-" he sat up and stared in amazement. "It merged with the wood. They grew together. Isn't that nuts?" he chuckled and began to laugh because this never happened to him before. "Apparently, a new level of dying unlocked. Now a nickel
appears in your brain, and that will do the trick. Isn't that awesome? A knife comes from anywhere and grows in your spine," he sat down and still laughing hit the ground with knuckles of a clenched fist.
"Garrett, you scare me," said Jillian anxiously, and he stopped.
"Me? No way, I'm okay," he briskly stood up. "Let's start the fire."
Picking the wood from another pile, he kept thinking about that nickel.
Why do I suffer this? From day to day, we worry more and more and care less and less. In the end, I will die right at the entrance.
"Here, take this and go inside," he handed her wood he picked and broke the branch right at the wall of the freezer to examine it.
The fusion of wood and metal was indistinguishable. Silver metallic and wooden fibers joined together like streams flowing into each other, creating a bigger and broader river. He stretched arm, took off his glove, and felt the heat radiating to his hand.
"How is this possible?" Garrett pressed his palm against the material.
Skin felt perfectly smooth drops of solidified melted wood. Marveled, he couldn't stop moving his thumb across it and paid no attention to grit jerking on the ground.
"Garrett," called Jillian through booming noise of falling buildings. He didn't react, and she came to him. "Look at the city," she tapped him on the shoulder.
In a matter of minutes, the city completely changed its shape. All houses built in the suburb lay destroyed under the ruins of appearing high-rises creating mammoth mounds of debris. Last skyscrapers collapsed like dominos flattening the highway bridges, railroads, apartments, schools and malls in downtown to the ground.
"I would like to meet anyone who made it out of there alive," Garrett recalled the bistro destroyed by twister a day before. "Let's start the fire."
"We should run away. What if it comes here? We can't stay just sitting here," she urged him, but a strange scent captured their attention.
It smelled like blood running from the nose, and the light of the day faded around them. The midday turned into the evening twilight.
"What's this?" said Jillian, and the second she looked up, something tiny and sharp like a needle hit her forehead. "Ouch," she rubbed the spot. "What the hell?" she looked around for it but with no success. She turned to Garrett, who stood there with an outstretched palm and examined the specks he caught on his hand.
